The Mardi Gras Case
by Channel D
Summary: It's Mardi Gras time, and while Abby urges everyone to celebrate, the team has a New Orleans-related case. Written for the NFA Big Easy challenge. One-shot.


**The Mardi Gras Case**

**by channelD**

_written for_: the NFA _Big Easy_ challenge. The aim of the change is to involve the city of New Orleans ("the Big Easy") in some way.

_rating_: K plus

_genre_: drama/humor/case file

_- - - - -_

_disclaimer_: I own nothing of NCIS.

- - - - -

"Here," Abby said cheerfully. "This is the surprise I told you about. The order just came in yesterday. I have one for each of you. Put them on!"

Tony, Ziva and Tim looked puzzled and amused as Abby handed each a t-shirt. Tony's said: _It's Mardi Gras time in the Big Easy!_ The other two were variations on that.

"The colors…clash a bit. Is that intentional?" asked Ziva, who held a vivid purple woman's cut t-shirt.

"They're the three official colors of the New Orleans Mardi Gras. The purple you have is for _justice._ I see that in you, Ziva. Tony has gold, for _power_; and Tim, green—"

"Because he's a very tall leprechaun," Tony grinned.

"No, because green symbolizes _faith_," Abby said, frowning at Tony briefly. "Tim always has faith."

_No, I don't,_ Tim almost said, but he stopped himself when he realized that would sound ungrateful. He'd been brought up to be gracious. "It's very nice, Abby," he said, holding up his rich green shirt. "Thank you!"

"Well, come on! Put them on!"

The agents paused and looked at her. If they were lucky, no one else in the squad room had overheard the conversation. Gibbs was off who-knows-where.

"Put them…on? Here? Now?" asked Tony.

"Mardi Gras waits for no man, Tony! Yes, _now_! Today is Shrove Tuesday. You and McGee are both wearing sports coats. Take off your shirts and put on the t-shirts in their place. And Ziva; you're wearing a zip-up sweater. You can wear your t-shirt underneath it. The purple will look nice with your blue sweater."

Tony and Tim exchanged looks. There was no polite way of refusing Abby's request that wouldn't hurt her feelings. Besides, on this late-February morning it was just cold enough to keep their sports coats buttoned up. Maybe no one would notice the brightly-colored shirts.

Going first, Tony shed his sports coat and his button-down shirt (which was new, and carefully picked to go with the coat) and tie, and put on the nearly-luminescent golden t-shirt. Tim likewise stripped to the waist, while Ziva bustled off to the nearest ladies' room to change.

_Let's get this over before Gibbs gets back,_ Tim thought, fumbling with buttons in his haste. They were in luck—all three were t-shirt clad and presentable quickly, with no sign of the boss. Still, each of them felt a little conspicuous by the dash of color at their throats.

"Did you get one for Gibbs?" asked Ziva.

"Gibbs? _Gibbs?_ He has a narrower color palette than I do," Abby scoffed. "While I at least like a little red and white with my black (and I know they aren't Mardi Gras colors; you don't have to tell me), he lives in grey, grey, and shades of grey. They don't make MG shirts for people like him. I'm not even sure they'd allow him in the city during Mardi Gras."

The others laughed. It could be true.

"Gear up," came the boss' voice as he came out of the elevator. "We're making a quick jaunt to New Orleans. No time to go home and change, so I hope you're all dressed…" He looked at his team, and saw the bits of bright colors peeking out. "…appropriately." He glared at Abby.

"Sorry, Gibbs," she said smiling too cheerfully. "I really did search online for a grey t-shirt. I did. No luck."

He rolled his eyes and beckoned the team to follow him. Grabbing their sigs, badges, and coats, they did so.

"Maybe you'll find one in a t-shirt shop there!" Abby called after him.

- - - - -

"What's in New Orleans, boss?" Tony asked as they rode to Andrews AFB for their flight.

"Good food, DiNozzo. Nicer weather than DC at this time of year. I assume you know that Mardi Gras is going on now?"

"I did not know that NCIS paid for jungles," said Ziva.

"I think you mean 'junkets', Ziva, and I assume there's a case involved, so this isn't a junket," said Tim, making it a question.

Gibbs nodded. "Yes; drugs smuggled in from South America. Remember Joey Horris?"

"We built a case against him, um, year before last, but a jury acquitted him," said Tim.

"Even got off on the charge of threatening federal agents, after we all distinctly heard him promise to kill us," Tony mused.

"Nice guy," Tim grumped.

"Glad you like him, McGee," said Gibbs. "He's suspected of being behind the smuggling to the Navy base in New Orleans, so that's why we were asked to come in. We know him."

" 'Keep your friends close, and your enemies in closets,' do you not say?" asked Ziva, her look innocent.

"You know, sometimes I think you make those remarks deliberately," said Tony.

- - - - -

The flight from Maryland to Naval Air Station, Joint Reserve Base (NAS JRB), south of New Orleans in Belle Chasse, didn't take long. A Hummer was waiting for them at Belle Chasse. Gibbs wanted to drive, and the other three fought for the shotgun seat—Ziva winning. Grumbling, Tony and Tim got in the back seat.

"New Orleans during Mardi Gras! Man; I've always wanted to see this!" Tony said.

"Put in a leave slip for it next year, Tony," Gibbs said with a sly grin. "You should know better. We're not going to get anywhere near downtown New Orleans. The water's this way."

"A shame," said Ziva. "I have been in Germany for _Fasching,_ which is the same celebration. Much fun. Do you know that the women run around, cutting off men's neckties? It's a symbol of—"

"The hilarity of spring, I'm sure," Tony cut in, feeling his throat uncomfortably, and then realizing he'd taken his tie off back at NCIS. Tim was doing the same. Gibbs only laughed, while Ziva's eyes twinkled.

- - - - -

"These are _splendid_, Abigail! Thank you ever so much!" Ducky said in glee, while Abby threw yet another string of Mardi Gras beads over his head as she danced around the two Autopsy workers.

"I _love_ them," Jimmy said simply, fingering the five strings she'd already place on him. "Vivid colors, different shapes, different materials…"

"They certainly liven up a sterile environment such as this!" Ducky added. "Will they bring us luck?"

"Nah; they're just for fun. But combating a sterile environment—that's kind of the whole point," said Abby, adding a string of scarlet rose-shaped glass beads to Ducky's collection. "Mardi Gras precedes Lent, which leads up to Easter. Spring will bloom. The earth will reawaken."

"I've never been to New Orleans," said Jimmy, "but I heard that women collect beads by flashing—"

"_Mister Palmer!"_ Ducky was not given to head slaps, but that uncouth remark, particularly in a woman's presence, warranted the slap he gave Jimmy.

Abby's face had turned stormy. She spun on her heel and stomped out.

"Abby, wait!" Jimmy called. "I'm sorry! I didn't mean _you_ had…" But she didn't come back. "Me and my big mouth," Jimmy said sadly.

"Indeed, Mister Palmer," Ducky growled. "You could fit all of those beads in there, with room to spare."

- - - - -

The team spent an hour searching the waterfront, finding no sign of Joey Horris. Two sailors, though, were positive that they had heard him making plans yesterday to go to Washington.

"Another wild moose chase," sighed Ziva, while turning her head toward the sun's warmth.

"Yeah," Tony agreed, rather than correcting her. "Hey, boss; since we're here and we have time to kill, how about we drive up to New Orleans and take in the sites? Pretty women; revelers; drinking allowed in the streets…"

"Got a leave slip to give me, DiNozzo? Willing to go home on your own dime? No? Then come on; we can catch a 2 o'clock back to Andrews from NAS JRB."

"You have no sense of fun, boss," Tony grumbled.

"He is saving you from yourself, Tony," said Ziva. "Mardi Gras might be too much for the casual tourist."

Tim chuckled, and made cutting motions with his hand near Tony's throat.

"Not even funny, McGee," Tony said, glowering.

- - - - -

By 6 o'clock, as the sun had set, the team was approaching NCIS, with Tim driving the sedan. Gibbs clicked his phone shut as they came into the garage. "No rest for the weary. Park near the truck, McGee. We've got a dead sailor near the Anacostia base. Ducky and Palmer will beat us there."

- - - - -

"Really, Mister Palmer," Ducky scolded mildly as Jimmy drove the Autopsy van at a fast clip. "Anacostia is just a stone's throw away. There was no need to have rushed so. We could have taken the time to have left our beads at NCIS."

"I want to get there before Gibbs, for once," Jimmy said determinedly. "It may be the only time this happens."

With a rueful smile, Ducky nodded. "You do have a point, lad. Well, carry on, then."

Indeed, they did arrive before there was a sign of the MCRT truck. Jimmy pulled up close to where a knot of Navy MPs stood. "I suppose we must be the face of NCIS," Ducky sighed as he was about to open his door. "Look sharp, Jimmy. We really must take off the beads now."

"Yes, Doctor," Jimmy said with a sigh, and then found some backbone. "I'm going to leave _one_ strand on. There's no reason why we can't show a _little_ holiday spirit." He hung six of his seven bead strings over the rearview mirror. Then he tucked the remaining one inside his suit jacket, so only a bit of beads showed around his neck.

Ducky looked at his young assistant shrewdly. "You're learning to bend rules. Bravo, Mister Palmer." He likewise took off all but one strand.

"What do we have, Captain?" said Ducky as he and Jimmy walked up to the MPs, quickly noting who had the highest rank.

"Body's down this way, Doctor," said the captain. "I would have expected your agents to be here by now."

"Yes, well, they're on their way back from Andrews AFB. They should be here presently…" He and Jimmy followed the captain to the water's edge, where, masked somewhat by tall reeds, a sailor's body lay, partly in the water. The rest of the MPs remained at the top of the bank, some distance away, carefully away from the river muck. Across the Anacostia river, in the growing darkness, lights shone in the Navy Yard.

"Can I be of any help to you, Doctor?" asked the captain. He didn't look particularly eager to get any closer to the bloated, decomposing body.

"No, thank you; just send our people down here when they arrive."

"Will do. I'll leave you to it, then." The captain covered his mouth and rushed away as Jimmy poked at an enlarged arm.

Ducky answered his ringing phone. "Hello, Jethro! We're here, with a body that's dying to meet you, or well, has already died. Where are you?"

"_We got onto the Capitol Street bridge and got caught behind an accident. Collision of two tractor-trailers. No one's hurt, but no one's moving, either. We'll be here awhile."_

"Well, I'm sure our sailor will be patient. See you soon, I hope." He clicked the phone off.

Jimmy looked at Ducky in the gloom. "Should we move the body out of the water while we can still see it, Doctor?"

"Heavens, no, lad! Gibbs would have our heads. We do have lanterns and flashlights for nighttime work, you know."

"Yes, Doctor," said Jimmy, sadly. He hated to just sit around.

"Let's see if there is anything we can do in the meantime," Ducky said. "Hand me the liver probe, if you would…"

- - - - -

An hour went by, and it became fully dark. Ducky had Jimmy constantly readjusting the positions of the three lanterns from the van as he worked. It really wasn't enough light to do the job, but the big spotlights were in the MCRT truck, somewhere on the Capitol Street bridge.

- - - - -

"Gibbs." He stared at the unmoving traffic; the phone pressed to his ear.

"_Gibbs, your friend Joey Horris was spotted at the edges of the Anacostia base just now."_

"Unfortunately, we're stuck in traffic on the bridge, Leon," Gibbs sighed.

"_Get out of it, or he'll get away."_

"I could have one of my agents jump off the bridge and swim to the base." Gibbs looked pointedly at Ziva, Tony and Tim in turn. "None of them seem to be volunteering."

"_Keep me updated."_

"You got it." There was now a sign that the traffic might start moving.

- - - - -

Ducky and Jimmy labored on. It surprised even them how much they could accomplish without Gibbs around, calling the shots. Jimmy even started taking photos with a small camera from the van, although the agents would doubtless take their own.

"Back away from the body. Nice and slow like."

The two NCIS men looked up in surprise. At the edge of the lantern light was a man in a mud-stained Navy crackerjack uniform. He had a gun on them.

"What do you want?" Ducky demanded.

"For you to get away from the body," the gunman repeated, anger in his voice. "I'm taking possession of it."

"That's a funny thing to collect," Jimmy remarked, ignoring Ducky's shushes.

"I don't like smartasses," the man growled, swinging the gun to point it directly at Jimmy. "There's stuff on that body that I'm taking with me."

"Like that Rolex he's wearing?" asked Jimmy. "It's a fake. I can tell."

"_Jimmy!"_

"He's got drugs, all right?!?" the gunman roared. "Either in his pockets, or in packets in his stomach. I aim to take them, all right?!?"

Ducky thought fast. One more random remark could cost Jimmy his life. While the gunmen's eyes were on Jimmy, almost daring him to make a comeback, Ducky tore off the heavy, leaded bead string and hurled it in the gunman's face.

The gunman cried out and stumbled, but quickly came back up and pointed the gun at Ducky before Ducky could grab it.

"_Nooooo!"_ cried Jimmy, and threw himself between the two of them. While doing so, he ripped off his own beads and managed to slip them over the gunman's head, yanking him down.

"_Freeze, Horris! _Federal agents. For real!" Jimmy and Ducky looked up to see Gibbs, Ziva, Tony and Tim there, all with guns drawn.

"You're late," said Ducky.

"I never want to be first on the scene again," Jimmy added.

- - - - -

"Nice move with the beads, Palmer," Gibbs nodded when Joey Horris was safely in custody. "Choreographed, almost."

"Well, you know," Jimmy said lamely.

"And entirely appropriate," said Ducky. "There's only a few hours of Mardi Gras left. As Abigail would tell you, at the stroke of midnight, Mardi Gras ends and Lent begins. It is _highly_ unmannerly to be caught still wearing beads once Lent begins."

"Guess the same goes for these t-shirts, eh?" Tony said with a wicked gleam. "Time to take them off?"

"It is not even 9 o'clock yet, Tony. I think I can make it home before midnight and not offend anyone," Ziva said with an amused air.

"We'll all go home shortly," said Gibbs. "We should be able to wrap this up for the night in half an hour at NCIS."

- - - - -

Back at NCIS, a package waited for Gibbs at his desk. It had been sent special delivery to Ms. Abigail Sciuto from New Orleans.

Inside was a grey t-shirt.

-END-


End file.
